I died a hundred deaths
My ‘me’ wrapped in a sheet
My body limped back, and
The ‘me’ lay in Park Street.
Tyrants brewed out from
The ghastly kitchen of woes,
Where savages donned partydom
Raping friends and foes
Then my bleeding started
The rookies groped their hand
Now the mute law enforcers
Saving their skin - stand.
The randomness in the chair
Followed typical old methods
It fanned the savages’ lust
it enthused the virile studs.
Emboldened by the silence
Or the gimmicks of the chair
The animals ruled the roost
Just changing the party attire.
I died in the green fields
Was gagged for thirty years,
And still today I bleed
Still today my ‘me’ is shared.
(Published in "The Enchanted World", Fest Anthology of JKC College, Guntur, AP )
